Art of Temptation
by emmapetran0990
Summary: PART OF MY SHORT STORY COLLECTION. Emma Petrova has rejected every offer for her father's art collection. But Damon Salvatore urges her to think it over. Her collection would bring millions to his auction house and pay off an old score. Keeping his true intentions concealed, Damon hungers for victory. But after a night in Emma's bed, is Damon ready for the repercussions? AU/OC
1. Painting Pictures

**This is an alternate universe from my typical Damon and Emma stories. No vampires.**

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"Miss Petrova is _not_ seeing anyone today!"

The voice of Emma's housekeeper startled her. She placed her paintbrush down as she heard footsteps approaching her. She grabbed a cloth on the table and wiped her hands on it before turning to the patio door. She saw a tall man with dark hair walking toward her. He was undeniably handsome and looked slightly familiar.

"My apologies, Miss Petrova. Mr. Salvatore was insistent on seeing you."

"It's fine, Darla." Emma's housekeeper huffed as she walked away. "Salvatore. I presume you're Damon Salvatore of Cunningham's auction house?"

"I thought you wouldn't remember me."

"Who could forget you? You are the one who's been hassling me to sell my father's collection of art to your auction house. A face-to-face meeting won't change my mind, Mr. Salvatore." Damon sent her a charming smile and Emma felt butterflies in her stomach. Emma quickly tampered down her feelings. She knew exactly the type of man Damon was. Confident, cocky, arrogant.

"Your PA, Dominic Vargas, set up a meeting between you and I several weeks ago, Miss Petrova. He told me you were open to negotiations." Talk about a smooth operator. Emma wondered how much he had bribed her assistant. Her office had been hounded by calls from Cunningham's for months. Emma knew she'd have to have a stern talking to with Dominic

"As I said before, Mr. Salvatore—"

"Please, Damon."

"Very well then. Damon, I'm not selling the collection," said Emma, her patience wearing thin. She knew it was foolish, but she couldn't bear to part from the vast art collection her father had acquired over his lifetime.

"The Petrova Collection could bring you quite a bit of wealth, Miss Petrova."

"I'm not interested in money. I have plenty."

"Touche. Consider this though. The paintings should be seen by others who can value them." Emma's eyes narrowed. How much had Dominic told Damon? Did he know they were just sitting in her mansion in Miami?

"You quite presumptive. What makes you think I don't value them?"

"I'm sure you have your own motivation in keeping the collection locked away, but everyone has their price." Emma laughed. He was very bold indeed.

"I'm not selling, Mr. Salvatore. Go home."

"Back to your painting?" Damon smirked, seeing the canvas Emma had been working on.

"I told you to leave, Mr. Salvatore."

"Damon. And yes, you did, but I'd like to discuss what you're painting. Come on. You don't even know what you're doing wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"I am a trained expert in art, you know."

"In selling it."

"And recognizing what will sell."

"Well then tell me. What am I doing _wrong_?" Emma asked, amused.

"You haven't captured the light right. You need more warmth in the upper corners." Emma took a clean brush and applied some paint to the canvas. "Now, that's much better. I can't believe you missed that detail."

"I suppose light has been absent in my life for quite some time."

Damon nodded, knowing he now had Emma in the palm of his hand. He had been waiting for months to get past Emma Petrova's walls. He was so close he could taste success. If he obtained the Petrova Collection, his future as a partner at Cunningham's would be ensured and he would get back that which was stolen from his family.

"Losing a parent is difficult." Damon felt a slight pang of guilt for manipulating this woman, but he shook it off.

"I surmise you've lost a parent as well."

"You would be correct."

"My condolences."

"It was years ago, but thank you. Landscapes aren't really your forte."

"No, portraits are more my style." Damon was immediately intrigued. He would have never guessed that.

"Like your great-great uncle?"

"Very good. You know your Petrova history."

"Cunningham's only hires the best. I studied Brendan Petrova in college. I wrote my thesis on him."

"Do you paint?"

"Not as well as I'd like to, I'm afraid."

"I have a Brendan Petrova here. Would you like to see it?" Damon was shocked at her offer. The painting Damon had sought, the painting that had been taken from his grandfather was here.

"I would love to if it's not too much trouble."

"Come with me."

Damon walked with Emma into the historic house and up the stairs to her studio. Damon was stunned as he witnessed his grandfather's stolen painting.

"Gorgeous, isn't she? The subject was a maid in Brendan's house. She was his mistress. When she was discovered, Isabella, Brendan's wife, kicked her out of the house and demanded her husband burn the painting. He didn't of course. Rumor has it that the painting was given to the maid, although there's no documentation of this." Damon bit his tongue, not wanting to reveal that Brendan's subject had been his great-grandmother.

"How did your father receive the painting?"

"Through an art dealer. I keep this painting here as inspiration."

"For your work."

"Not only that. For everything in my life. I look at this painting and it reminds me to look for beauty in all life."

"I should go. It was very kind of you to show me the painting."

"It's no problem."

When they walked downstairs and arrived at the front door, Damon held out his hand. Emma accepted it graciously.

"I won't give up."

"Give up?"

"On receiving the Petrova Collection."

"It won't matter, Mister Salvatore. I'm not selling," Emma laughed.

"I'm accustomed to getting what I want."

"Well, then you're going to have to accustom yourself with disappointment."

"Do you believe I'm not familiar with disappointment? I've had my fair share of disappointment, but it's only made me more determined to get what I want for my life."

"And gaining the Petrova Collection for Cunningham's is what you want for your life?"

"Among other things."

"You have me curious now. Come to dinner tonight. Eight. I'd love to hear why the Petrova Collection is so important to you."

"Very well. But let's go out, if that is okay with you, of course."

"Fine. It's been awhile since I was last in town. Seven?"

"Seven." And with his agreement, Damon strode out of the house, a smirk on his face. If everything went according to plan, he'd have all he desired.

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	2. Turning Tables

When Emma closed the door behind her, she let out a heavy sigh. Why had she done that? Why had she agreed to a date with a man that had done nothing but pester her? She cursed his blue eyes. She'd always been a sucker for blue eyes. For a brief moment, Emma thought Damon wanted to have dinner with her because he was attracted to her, but she quickly shoved that thought away. The only reason Mr. Salvatore was agreeing to have dinner with her was because of his commission if she sold the collection to him. Emma resolved she wouldn't sell the paintings, but she would enjoy this dinner. It'd been a while since she'd been in the company of an attractive man. Ever since the death of her father and the realization that most of her friends were only interested in seeing what they could get from her, Emma had secluded herself from everything, lived within the confines of her home. The week after her father's funeral she had made a promise to herself. She would never allow anyone to use her ever again. As Emma walked up the stairs to her bedroom, she smiled. She was fully aware of what Damon Salvatore wanted. The Petrova Collection. Nothing more and nothing less. That she could most certainly deal with.

That night, Damon pulled into Emma's driveway. He had already formulated his plan. He knew he had to be careful around Miss Petrova. She was still reeling from her father's death. But Damon was sure he would get what he came for. When Emma opened the door he was stunned. Beautiful brown hair curled perfectly, her body poured into a aquamarine and white dress. A sliver of lust ran up Damon's body. She was gorgeous.

"You look stunning," Damon said.

"Thank you. You don't look to bad yourself."

After a short trip into town, Damon escorted Emma into a quaint restaurant. Throughout dinner, Damon had trouble reigning in his lust. She was just so damn tempting. It was also obvious the other guests in the restaurant were shocked to see Emma Petrova out in public.

"Seems like you're quite the topic of conversation," Damon observed.

"Some people can't mind their own business. I haven't been out and about in a while."

"Well, thank you for accepting my invitation," said Damon, touching her forearm softly. Damon felt her shivers. He knew the effect he had on her and it was that effect that was going to help him acquire the Petrova Collection.

"Thank you for asking," Emma said calmly. Inside, however, she was a mess. His touch did all kinds of things to her. She knew Damon Salvatore could be the ruin of her. She had to be careful. The only person Emma had learned she could trust was herself. He could be as charming as he liked but she wasn't going to allow Damon to pressure her into anything.

As they slipped into easy-going conversation, Emma was quite surprised by Damon. He had an appreciation for art that was as keen as his thirst to sell it. He was like her late father in many ways. His laid-back behavior tonight had been the opposite of what she had encountered one the phone: obstinate and insistent. When the bill arrived, Emma reached for the receipt, but Damon snatched it first.

"What do you think you're doing?" Damon asked, curious.

"Paying the bill?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I asked you out, remember? I'll take care of the check."

"Going to expense it, huh?"

"Is that what you think this is about? The auction house?" Damon asked, irritated.

"Well, what else could it be about?"

"Let's go," said Damon after paying the bill.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you," said Emma once they arrived back at Emma's home.

"Don't worry about it. You aren't wrong. I did ask you out because of the collection, but my motives have changed, I think."

"Into what?"

"This." Emma was shocked when Damon placed his hand on her cheek and his lips met hers. The moment their flesh touched Emma melted into his sweet touch. It was nothing what she would have expected from Damon Salvatore. "Can I see you again?"

Emma wanted to say yes, but she kept her guard up. She wasn't ever going to be used again like she was by her society friends before her father's death. She hoped Damon wanted her for her and not because of her status or money. She desperately wanted him to be different.

"Sure. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. I'll come by for lunch."

"See you then."

When Emma entered her home, she called her sister, Tatia. She needed some advice.

"I met a guy, Tatia, but I don't know what kind of future I could possibly have with him."

"What kind of person is he? Do you trust him?"

"All I know about him is that he's persistent."

"That's not such a bad thing, sis."

"He wants to sell father's art collection at his auction house. I've told him multiple times I'm not selling."

"Why not? You don't think he'll do a good job?"

"He works for Cunningham's. I'm sure he'll do a wonderful job, but I'm not ready to sell. It was Dad's, Tatia."

"I understand. You aren't ready to let go yet. If this guy is with Cunningham's, why don't you ask him to help find that statue for the garden? I'm sure he could. If he says yes, then you'll know he's somewhat reliable."

"I'll sleep on it. Thanks, sis."

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	3. This Woman's Work

When Damon arrived at Emma's house the next day, the housekeeper told him she was out in the gardens. As he walked to the back of the house, Damon realized he had been distracted last night with Emma. He had simply enjoyed her company rather than pursued his goal. He resolved he wouldn't be like that again around Miss Petrova. Emma laid her paintbrush down as she heard Damon walk up behind her.

"It looks good."

"Thank you."

"What's with the statue? It's not in your garden."

"But it's supposed to be," Emma sighed. "The angel statue was a wedding present for my parents from my mom's side of the family. I don't know its origins, but Dad sold it when Mom died. It was a beautiful piece. I really miss it."

"What happened to it?"

"Dad sent it to an auction house. It was sold almost immediately. I was so upset when he sold it that he tried to get it back, but it was too late. It had been resold and there were no purchase details. I have no clue where it is."

"You been looking for it?"

"Of course. Dad kept all the documentation he had on it, but I still haven't been able to find it. I was wondering if you would be willing to use your contacts to help me locate the statue. I'd do anything to see it back in my garden again."

"Lesson one in Negotiations 101, Emma. Never tell anyone what you're willing to pay." Emma shot Damon a look. He knew this was his in. If Emma felt like she owed him, the Petrova Collection would be as good as his as well as the painting that was stolen from his grandfather. "I would be honored to help you find your statue. I'll start looking for it right now. Let's have some lunch and afterwards you can show me your father's documentation on the statue."

After lunch, Emma showed Damon into her father's old study. She opened a drawer filled with files.

"This is all I have."

"You have most certainly been busy. You haven't made any progress?" Damon asked flipping through pages of the thick file Emma had handed to him.

"Nope."

"Do you have an electronic copy of this file?"

"Of course. I always back up my work."

"I'd like to copy it to my laptop if that's okay with you. I have access to the Cunningham's server and it can process the data more efficiently."

"That's no problem. Bring your laptop here. In fact, I even have a spare room you can stay in."

"You don't mind me staying here?"

"Not at all."

"Well, I don't see why not. Let me grab my things from my hotel room. I'll be back as soon as possible."

As Damon returned to his hotel, he called the CEO of Cunningham's, Elizabeth Forbes. He cleared his extended stay with Liz and reassured her he would look into a matter she was concerned about. Another employee of Liz's, Mason Lockwood, had secured a collection from Morocco. A rumor had been passed around that one object of the collection, a crown known as the Golden Key, was stolen from the original owners. If this rumor was true, it would ruin Liz's and her company's reputation. Mason had seemingly disappeared and the only man Liz trusted enough to investigate this under the radar was Damon. When Damon returned to Emma's place with his things, he told her about his investigation into the Golden Key statues.

"You're sure it's okay I'm helping you with this Golden Key business?" Emma asked.

"My boss okayed it. She's thankful we have the vast resources of your family's library at our disposal."

Emma nodded and began to sift through her father's reference collection. Before long, she filled the table with a few books and perused through the pages. Damon had busied himself with the computer.

"Find anything?" Damon asked as he noticed Emma shift in her seat, her interest obviously piqued.

"There's a lot of basic information about the Golden Key, but have you heard about the legend associated with it?" Damon shook his head. "According to legend, the Golden Key was custom-built for the country's ruler's three daughters to give them luck in love. The daughters all found love, but when one of the Golden Keys went missing, bad health and luck hit the corresponding branch of the family. They're all dead."

"Hmm. Hard to believe your life depends on whether you have a statue."

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	4. Holding On and Letting Go

When Damon woke up the next morning, he prepared himself for a call with the Prince of Cambodia, the man who claimed the Golden Key had been stolen from his family.

"Thank you for speaking with me, Your Highness," said Damon once the prince tersely answered the phone.

"Let get on with this Cunningham's business, shall we? My time is limited."

"Of course. I wanted to let you know that I'm researching the allegations."

"Allegations? It is truth, Mr. Salvatore. The Golden Key statue was stolen from my family by the Philippines and now you plan on selling it."

"The statue we have in our inventory could be the one that went missing over a century ago, could it not?"

"It is possible, yes. I imagine you will be hearing from the FBI and Interpol soon. They are personally looking into this matter. If I were in your position, I would urge Mrs. Forbes to return the statue to my family or admit the statue you have is a counterfeit."

"What if it isn't a counterfeit?"

"If the statue isn't a fake, then you have stolen our property."

"And the legend? Do you truly believe if the statue is given back to your family that you will be lucky in love?"

"That is none of your business and is not pertinent to this case. Tell Mrs. Forbes that if she wishes for further discussion on this matter to call me herself." The prince then hung up. Damon shot a quick email to Liz detailing the conversation.

"Everything okay in here, Damon?" Emma asked, entering the room.

"Yeah. I just talked to the Prince of Cambodia. He still thinks the Golden Key statue Liz had acquired is his family's and if it's not, it's a counterfeit. This doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe it was the statue from the legend."

"I hope so."

"I'm hosting a fundraiser this afternoon. I'd like it if you'd come with me."

"I would love to come with you."

That afternoon, Damon and Emma arrived at a mansion on the far side of town.

"I'm happy you agreed to come with me," said Emma after she exited the car and they entered the house. Before he could say anything, several colleagues of Emma's approached her. Even though Emma appeared to be gracious, he knew she wasn't. She seemed tired and tried to end the conversations as quickly as possible. He could tell that many of the people were here seeing what they could get from her.

"Any of your friends here?" Damon asked curiously after he had a moment alone with her.

"Are you implying I don't have any friends?"

"No. Of course not. I just kind of have the feeling that most of the people that are here are trying to see what they can get out of you."

"They aren't the only ones with ulterior motives, Damon. I'm using them to fund my charity. It's all a game, Damon. I'm sure you're familiar with it yourself. We do what has to be done to succeed."

Damon considered her words. Wasn't that what he was doing? Guilt started to wrap around his heart. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Emma, but he didn't see how at that end of the day he wouldn't end up doing just that. As the party continued and Emma talked to many different benefactors, she sent Damon a glance every once in a while and when he caught her gaze her stomach would flutter. She wondered if keeping her father's collection was a mistake. Maybe it was time to move on and let go. Finally making her decision, Emma resolved to sell Damon the collection.

When they returned to the house, the auction going off without a hitch, Emma told Damon about her charity before breaching the subject of the art collection.

"Damon, I've been thinking."

"I know we haven't been able to dig up much on your statue, but—"

"No, that wasn't what I was going to say. I've been thinking about the Petrova collection. I'm going to sell it, Damon, and I'd like you to represent it at Cunningham's."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't have mentioned it if I wasn't. I want other people to be able to enjoy it."

"You could achieve that by loaning it to a gallery or a museum."

"Am I missing something? For months, you wanted to handle the sale of my father's collection."

"I just want to make sure you're doing this for the right reasons. I don't want you to do this for me. I want you to do this for you."

"I've thought a lot about it, Damon. And the reasons I've been holding onto the collection don't seem so important now. Dad loved those paintings like they were his children."

"You think he loved them more than you?"

"I used to think so. I thought having the paintings would make me closer to him." Damon pulled Emma into his arms, stroking her hair. "So do you accept my offer?"

"Yes."

"Make love to me?" They both smiled and Damon kissed her, pushing her against the wall. Moaning, Emma wove her hands through Damon's hair, pulling his body closer to hers. Damon was inebriated by her taste. They stumbled up the stairs pulling each other's clothes off and running into walls. Emma felt like she was dying as Damon's distinctive scent of amber and sandalwood besieged her. It was intoxicating. As she pushed Damon against the wall leading to their bedroom, his hand brushed her inner thigh up to her clit.

"Oh, Damon!" Emma cried as she wrapped her legs around him and he thrust up into her.

"God, you're so tight," Damon growled as Emma rode him. Their releases were almost instantaneous, but they were nowhere near done with each other. They fell into their bedroom and onto the bed. "How much farther can you go?"

"As far as you want. Give me all of you."

Hot, wet skin slapped together as they panted in sync with each other. Their hunger for each other knew no bounds. One of Damon's hands threaded through Emma's wavy hair while the other pulled her leg tighter around his torso, pushing her so close to him she could have sworn they had melted together. He pushed in deep holding her hips firmly against him. Her inner muscles start to convulse around him and he could feel the muscles in his stomach start to tighten.

"Oh, don't stop!" Emma screamed wrapping her arms around Damon's neck, her hands threading through his hair as he thrusted harder into her. Damon growled, nipping every inch of skin he could access from this position. Emma's walls wonderfully clamped around his dick as she fell into the sensual tempest of devastation that was Damon.

"Faster! Harder!" she begged as the bed rocked.

"You'll be the death of me, woman!" Damon shook, thrusting harder and harder into her tight channel.

"That's it. Oh, that's the way I like it." In that moment, all Emma knew was that she desired this sexy as hell man more than anything. She needed him, hungered for his touch. Damon's movements grew more erratic and Emma screamed her lover's name in ecstasy as she hit the brink of destruction and pleasure.

Damon shattered with passion as he pushed her into the mattress, thrusting hard, begging his body for its own completion. He licked her neck, taking in her scent of jasmine, honey, and lilies one last time before plunging over the cliff leading to pure, unadulterated bliss. Shouting her name, Damon fell on top of her, every last drop of his energy gone, as his seed shot through her. Exiting her warm cavern, he rolled over and they both fought to regain their breath.

"Oh…my…God," Emma breathed.

"My thoughts exactly."

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	5. Easier to Lie

Damon woke the next morning to Emma tracing patterns on his shoulder down to his arm.

"You would make a beautiful painting," said Emma when Damon's eyes opened. Damon smirked, but the moment was ruined when his stomach growled. "I guess I should get you breakfast." She pulled the sheets back and headed for the door, naked. "Coming?"

"You are such a tease," Damon growled as Emma slipped into the bathroom. About an hour later, Damon and Emma surfaced from the shower and went to the kitchen to get some coffee.

"I know what I'm going to do with the money from the sale of Dad's art collection. I'm going to use it in support of my children's art charity," said Emma.

"That's great. I'd like to start an inventory on the collection. We can start with _Lady of Spring_ if that's okay with you," said Damon, secretly ecstatic he would be gaining his grandfather's stolen painting.

"I'm not going to sell her. The collection is at my mansion in Miami."

"Are you sure that's wise? Just by itself _Lady of Spring_ could support your foundation for years."

"She's not for sale, Damon, and that's that. Why are you being like this?"

"I'm just saying people will question why the collection isn't complete."

"_Lady of Spring_ isn't a true Impressionist piece like other paintings in the collection."

"But it's still of that style, Emma."

"I'm keeping the painting because it's the last link I have to my father and my family's history. It's not for sale, Damon."

"I didn't mean to upset you," said Damon, hugging her from behind. He laid a trail of kisses along her neck. "Forgive me?"

"I forgive you," Emma sighed as she turned in his arms to give Damon a kiss.

"What's this?" Damon asked, seeing some sketches lying on a table. "They're beautiful."

"Really?"

"Have you shown this?"

"No. I paint for fun and once in a while I'll donate a piece anonymously."

"You really should consider having a show for your work."

"I'll think about it. I'm don't really think I'm ready to be scrutinized by the public for my paintings just yet. You know, Brendan must have loved her," Emma said, turning to _Lady of Spring_.

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not sure exactly. The way he painted on the canvas just gives me this feeling that he couldn't have created something so beautiful without loving her."

"Lust perhaps, but I don't think love. I think you're romanticizing a little. He was just a talented painter."

"Sometimes you have to look past talent and into the heart of the painting."

"I'd rather look at you," Damon whispered before kissing her. That day they basked in each other company and Emma made her feelings clear for Damon that night when she told him she loved him as they made love in her bed. Damon's heart ached at the words, knowing that he could never have a future with Emma Petrova.

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	6. Mud

The following week Emma had been in a state of bliss. She had become quite addicted to Damon. Today, Damon was planning for a photographer to document Emma's art collection in Miami. Dominic Vargas, Emma's assistant, had filled out all the required paperwork for the sale since Emma had been occupied with her children's charity and a gallery opening. Damon had declined to attend with her, needing to focus on work.

"Look at you all dressed up. Maybe I should have accepted your invitation," said Damon seeing Emma in a silky pink dress.

"Afraid someone will sweep me away?"

"They can try," Damon smirked. "I'm a very jealous man."

"I'll make sure to let them know."

When Emma arrived at the art gallery, she realized this place wasn't really her style. The paintings were a little dark for her taste. Some could even be classified as disturbing.

"Emma, it's been a long time," said a dark-haired man from the crowd.

"Kol Mikaelson. What brings you out of Miami?"

"Promotional work for Parish's."

"I hope you aren't missing the warm weather too much."

"Not yet. I've been real busy though. Hopefully, my work will distract me from the cold New York winters. What about you? Are you living in New York now?"

"When my Dad was sick, I moved in with him temporarily. I've decided to make my stay permanent."

"My condolences about your father. We really should catch up, Emma. How about dinner tomorrow night?

"I'm sorry, Kol. I'm seeing someone. You might know him as a matter of fact. Damon Salvatore."

"Well, he moves fast. I assume he talked you into selling your father's collection."

"I think that's none of your business."

"Ah, what happens in the bedroom, stays in the bedroom. Don't worry. I get it."

"It's been a pleasure, but I really need to get going," said Emma, trying to reign in her temper.

"Give Damon my best."

"I will."

"Good to see Damon's had some success, but you'll never smooth his rough edges."

"Pardon me?"

"Salvatore worked hard to get where he is. From a blue-collar family. His grandfather raised him after his drug addict mother died in prison. His father was abusive so the grandfather paid him off to leave him and his brother, Stefan, alone.

"Hmm." Emma knew Kol was trying to shake her up, but this information only made Emma love Damon more.

"Damon will do whatever it takes to further his career. Whatever it takes."

"I'd say it's been a pleasure, Kol, but it hasn't. Have a good night."

"Sticks and stones, Emma. Sticks and stones."

Afterwards, Emma immediately left Kol and the art gallery, heading straight for home. She had never particularly liked Kol Mikaelson and now she despised him. What a bastard. She tried to place Kol out of mind and focused on going back to Damon. She smiled at the thought.

The following Monday, Emma and Damon sat outside in the garden, having breakfast. Emma had breached the subject of Damon's past the night after the gallery opening and he had talked with Emma about his grandfather briefly.

"I just talked with my PA," said Damon.

"She's an early riser, isn't she?"

"She's dedicated to say the least. If I'm being honest, Rose scares me. She knows everything about everybody at the auction house. She reminded me there's a party on Tuesday night. I have to be there. Would you like to be my date?"

"I'd be honored. I'll get a suitcase ready."

"Pack for a week. The collection is coming into the city and I want to inventory it myself. We'll have a presale show while we're there as well. You can still include _Lady of Spring_ if you want to."

"Damon, I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't selling her."

"I know someone who would pay anything for that painting."

"Well, this buyer can look elsewhere. Nothing will change my mind about this, Damon, and I'm quite irritated that you keep bringing it up."

"Determined is my middle name," said Damon, biting back his frustration, "But I'll drop it."

The next day, Emma slept most of the way to the city. When they arrived, Emma became quite curious as to where Damon lived. She was surprised when their cab pulled up to an apartment complex in Chelsea.

"Here it is," said Damon as they entered the apartment.

"It's beautiful."

"You can put your things in my room or the guest bedroom if you like."

"You're okay with that?"

"We're going to be here for awhile. I don't want you living out of a suitcase. You want something to eat?"

"Sure."

"Omelet?" Emma nodded. "Okay. It'll be ready in a few minutes." After unpacking her things and hanging them up, Emma walked into the kitchen where Damon had fixed her an omelet.

"Something smells good in here. I didn't know you cooked."

"I have many talents," said Damon as Emma began to eat.

"Oh my God. Where did you learn to cook? I've never tasted anything this good before."

"I had a lot of odd jobs when I was in college. Working in the kitchen was one of them."

"So what's the party for tonight?"

"Cunningham's has received the notated final draft manuscript written by Davis Miller."

"Wow. Impressive. Miller died at a young age…in a plane crash, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. India. The manuscript is one of the most valuable pop culture items today."

"So is celebrating consignments standard protocol for Cunningham's?"

"No, but Liz made the right choice. We need some good PR right now. We need people to know we aren't affected by rumors and the news. The world is still spinning and we aren't stopping."

"What time do we need to be there?"

"Eight."

"So we have some free time."

"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" Damon smirked.

"I don't know. Am I?"

"Tease."

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	7. Promise of a Lifetime

When Emma and Damon arrived at the party, Emma could tell Damon was a well-liked man among his co-workers. When Damon left her to briefly speak with one of his clients, a wave of fatigue claimed Emma. She attributed it to the trip to the city.

"You must be Emma Petrova," said a blonde woman as Emma approached an appetizer buffer. "I'm Liz Forbes, CEO of Cunningham's. I'm so glad Damon invited you. He's told me so much about you."

"Good things I hope."

"Of course. I am absolutely ecstatic that you decided to allow us the honor of representing the Petrova Collection."

"Well, I believe it's time the collection be appreciated by others in the art world. Congratulations on acquiring the Miller manuscript consignment."

"Thank you. It's quite a tragedy though that _The Final Rose_ is his last piece."

"Wasn't he a school teacher?"

"Yes. He worked in a private school in Washington, D. C. He was quite talented. All his stories hit the _New York Times_ bestseller list. He was quite accomplished in the short time he lived."

When Liz excused herself to talk with some other guests, another wave of fatigue hit Emma. Damon's eyes locked with hers and he went to her immediately.

"Are you alright? You don't look so good."

"I just feel a little lightheaded."

"Let's go home."

"No. I'll be alright. This event is important to you."

"Not as important as you."

"Alright," Emma finally conceded.

"Stay right here. I just need to talk to Liz for a moment."

A few minutes later, the couple left the party. She fell asleep in the car and Damon picked her up in his arms and put her to bed. When Damon woke up the next morning, he was surprised to see Emma already up, dressing.

"Do you really think you should be up and about after last night?" Damon asked, getting up and picking out some clothes for himself.

"I'm fine, Damon. You're going to be at work all day so I'm going to the Met. There's a gallery lecture I want to attend. Don't worry," said Emma before going into the bathroom. A few later, Damon heard a thump and went immediately into the bathroom, opening the door. Emma was lying on the floor.

"Emma!" He went to her side immediately and she woke up slowly.

"What happened?"

"You fainted. I'm taking you to a hospital."

"Don't be ridiculous. I feel fine. I just got a little dizzy. I don't need a hospital."

"Emma, this isn't like you. Please see a doctor."

"Damon, I feel fine," Emma insisted.

"You're not fine," said Damon as he picked Emma up and laid her on the bed. "Stay there. I'm calling a doctor."

Emma had no idea how afraid Damon was. He had never seen her so pale and that moment where she laid on the bathroom floor unconscious had been the longest moment of his life. He cared for Emma so much it frightened him at times. He placed a kiss on her forehead before grabbing his phone and calling one of his old college friends. She was a medical doctor in Manhatten. After setting up an appointment and fixing Emma some breakfast, Damon and Emma left for the doctor's office. A few minutes later, they were led into a patient room.

"Hello, Damon," said a woman, entering the room. "And you must be Emma. I'm Doctor Meredith Fell. What brings you into my office today?"

"I was a little dizzy this morning."

"Don't lie. You fainted," Damon scoffed.

"Has this happened before?"

"No. But I've been through a lot of stress lately. My father's death hit me hard a few months ago."

"It could be stress, but I'd like to run a few tests to be certain. First, your blood pressure. Hmm. It's a little low. When was your last period?"

"A week ago. It was light, but my hormones have been all over the place since the funeral."

"I want to run a urine sample. Everything you need is in that bathroom," said Meredith, pointing toward a room down the hall. "After you're done, drop your sample off in the nurse's office next door. We should get the results soon." Emma nodded and left the room. "You mind tell me what's going on, Damon?"

"She's sick. You're a doctor. What's so complicated about that?"

"Damon, I'm not an idiot. I do have eyes. You look at her…differently. I never took you for the serious relationship type."

"I'm not…it's complicated."

"Wow. I can't wait to see the look on everyone's faces when I tell them the mighty Damon Salvatore has fallen hard."

Damon rolled his eyes at Meredith before Emma entered the room again. "You okay?"

"Damon, there's nothing wrong with me," said Emma as Meredith pressed a few keys on a computer and pulled up Emma's test results.

"Here we go. These results are only preliminary and look good. No infection or elevated protein. Your glucose is good."

"But?" Damon asked. There was always a but.

"You have an elevated hCG level."

"Elevated hCG. But that means…" Emma trailed off, her face growing pale.

"Someone want to fill me in?"

"There's a very high possibility Emma is pregnant," Meredith answered.

"That's not possible," Emma said.

"I'll have to run a blood test to confirm these results, but I have a good idea what they'll say."

"We used protection and I had a period."

"Protection isn't 100% effective and what you thought was a period was most likely an implantation bleed. I understand this is a big surprise, but you two have some decisions to make. I'll go get the materials for the blood tests and you can come back and see the results in a few days. Alright?" Emma nodded, still trying to process everything. All the way back to Damon's apartment, she was numb.

"Are you alright?" Emma asked when she and Damon sat on the couch in the living room.

"Don't you think I should be asking you that?"

"I'm okay. Surprised, like really surprised."

"Everything's going to be okay."

"What do you mean by that?" Emma asked, confused.

"Marry me." Not once had Damon said he loved her, but she yearned to say yes, even though it wasn't the most romantic of proposals. "It's perfectly logical, Emma. We both have feelings for one another and those feelings will only grow. This will work for us and for our child. You love me, don't you? Marry me. Please?"

Emma wanted to take a chance with Damon, but what if he broke her heart? What would she do then?

"Damon, this is huge and pregnancy shouldn't be a foundation for marriage."

"Emma, you do love me, don't you?"

"How can you ask me that? Of course I do. But I don't know if you love me."

"I care about you, Emma. A lot. More than I have for any other woman. This will work."

"What if I'm not pregnant?"

"I'll still want to marry you. We can get a license and get married right away."

"Can I think about it? This is an important decision."

"Alright. How about the rest of today?"

"Damon! That's not fair. This is a life changing decision! I need some time."

"Emma, I made my decision in fifteen minutes. I'm hoping it won't take long for you to come to a decision when I came to one so easily," Damon smiled before giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I have to go to work for a few hours. Stay here and rest and tonight I'll take you out to dinner. We'll talk more about it then."

"Alright."

"I won't ever betray you, Emma. Ever."

After Damon left, Emma fixed herself lunch and thought about Damon's proposal. She knew Damon had been truthful about his feelings. She wanted to believe that him only caring about her was enough. She didn't have to marry, Damon. She didn't need money. She just needed someone to love her. When Damon returned home, Emma made her decision. She pushed Damon against the door, kissing him.

"A guy could get used to a greeting like that? I assume you've made your decision."

"Yes."

"Yes, you've made a decision or, yes, you're accepting my proposal?"

"Yes, I accept your proposal. I want to be your wife more than anything else."

"I promise you'll never regret it," said Damon, twirling her around before placing a kiss on her cheek. He pulled out a jewelry box out of his pocket. "I figured there should be some tradition involved. Emma Petrova, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes."

"How would you feel about getting married this weekend?"

"You can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious. If we apply for a license tomorrow, we can get married on Sunday."

"Where are we going to get married?"

"Depends on who can officiate at such short notice."

"I have a family friend in mind. He's a New York State Supreme Court judge."

"That's wonderful. Call him now."

Luckily, the judge was happy to perform the wedding. That Sunday, Emma's pregnancy was verified and the realization of what was occurring began to sink in for Damon. When Emma walked out of the judge's house, Damon was floored. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was radiant. Damon realized then that he loved Emma Petrova.

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	8. Set Fire to the Rain

As Damon lay in bed with his wife, he began to come to terms with the fact he was in love with Emma. Love had never been a part of his plan. He never had considered it as part of his future. To be honest, he was absolutely terrified of his feelings for Emma. It's why he had hidden behind his words of simply caring for her. He was afraid that if he told Emma he loved her she'd have control over him. He regretted marrying Emma without telling her he loved her first. After hauling himself out of bed, he went to the office to check on the delivery of the Petrova Collection. As the employees began to cart the collection into Cunningham's, Damon's phone rang.

"This is Davis Parish," a man said on the other line when Damon answered.

"And what can I do for you, Mr. Parish?" Damon asked, rolling his eyes. Damon didn't like Davis and his company one bit. Part of it was due to the fact that Parish's was Cunningham's number one competitor. The other was that Davis was a bastard. He was fond of manipulating others to get what he wanted.

"I would like to propose something to you, Salvatore. Let's meet for dinner tonight."

"Mr. Parish, it won't look to good if I'm seen dining with you."

"If discretion is what you need them come to my apartment. Six o'clock, tomorrow evening, 61 Valdosta Way."

The next day, Damon called Emma from work. Emma had felt like Damon had been neglecting her the past two days. All he had been focused on was work.

"How's my favorite wife?" Damon asked over the phone.

"I'm your only wife."

"You alright?"

"Yeah. I just miss you."

"I'm sorry I've been so busy with work. I'm going to be late tonight. Something's come up."

"When will you be home?"

"I don't know, honestly. Don't wait up for me. Order something."

"It's okay. I'm used to taking care of myself."

"Emma, don't be like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've always looked out for myself, Damon. Don't worry."

"I'll leave as soon as I can," Damon said before hanging up. A few minutes later, the phone rang again and Emma answered it, hoping it was Damon. "Hello?"

"Emma?"

"Kol," she sighed. "I was hoping to not hear from you again for awhile."

"So I guess the rumors are true. You married Damon Salvatore."

"Not that it's any of your business."

"Emma, you need to know some things, but it's not appropriate to tell you over the phone. I'm in the city tonight. How about we have dinner?" Emma wanted to tell Kol to take a hike, but she had to admit she was curious about what else Kol could possible tell her.

"Where do you want to meet?"

"Maggiano's?"

"I'll be there in an hour."

"Thank you, Emma. You won't be sorry." Emma had a feeling his words couldn't be farther from the truth. When Emma arrived at Maggiano's, Kol was already seated at a booth in the back. After they ordered their food, Kol started off the conversation.

"Congratulations on your nuptials, but I probably should be just congratulating Damon."

"Why do you say that?"

"Damon's getting more out of this marriage than you are. You remember I told you he came from a blue-collar family, right?"

"What does that have to do with anything? Damon's background just shows how determined he is. He works hard."

"Did he work hard on you?"

"This is ridiculous. I don't have to listen to this," said Emma, outraged.

"You need to hear this."

"Then get on with it."

"Damon must be absolutely delighted he now has joint ownership of _Lady of Spring_. That was what he truly wanted all along. His grandfather's mother was Marianne Wolfson and as you know, Marianne Wolfson was the model in _Lady of Spring. _She was your great-great uncle's lover. Small world, huh? Damon tried to buy it from your father several times. I've got to hand it to Damon. He concocted quite the plan. Seducing you into marriage so he could get his hands on that painting."

Emma felt a piece of her heart shrivel up and die. She considered whether Kol was lying, but she knew he wasn't. All the pieces fit together. Damon had used her. She had been used…again. When Damon returned home that night from a tense meeting with Parish, Emma was waiting on the couch.

"We going somewhere?" Damon asked as he noticed her suitcase by the door.

"I am. I'm leaving."

"Why?"

"Don't be stupid, Damon. It doesn't suit you."

"You mind filling me in? What's the matter?"

"Why did you come see me upstate?"

"I wanted to win the consignment of the Petrova Collection. You know that. Are you having second thoughts about selling?"

"Would it matter to you?"

"Yes, but I only want you to be happy, Emma. Whether you want to sell the paintings or keep them, all that matters to me is your happiness." Damon reached out to touch her, but she stepped away.

"Don't touch me."

"What's the matter?"

"I bumped into a mutual acquaintance when I went to that art gallery upstate. Kol Mikaelson. He knew a lot about you. Things he thought I should know. About your background."

"That was in that past, Emma."

"I'm not stupid! I know that. Him telling me about your background actually made me like you more. You were so determined. Kol met with me again tonight. You should have told me, Damon."

"Told you what? What are you talking about? Are you at least going to give me the opportunity to counter whatever Kol has said that has upset you so much?"

"Who are you?"

"_Lady of Spring_," Damon muttered, finally realizing Emma _knew_.

"So it's true. Why couldn't you have told me the truth earlier? I would have sold her to you for the right reasons. However, now, you can forget seeing the painting ever again. Everything has been a lie, hasn't it?" Silence. "Thanks for at least being courteous enough not to lie to me now. Let me ask you this. Did you think by getting me pregnant you could trap me into this marriage? Force me to hand over the painting?"

"Of course not! I didn't trap you. Yes, I wanted the Petrova Collection for my career. Yes, I'm Marianne Wolfson's great-grandson. Yes, I wanted the painting back. But I didn't marry you or get you pregnant because of the painting."

"So when I was pregnant the thought of that painting never crossed your mind?" Damon looked at the ground and Emma shook her head in disbelief. "I thought so. I'm going home and I'll be contacting my lawyer to begin writing up divorce papers."

"Emma, please, don't do this," Damon begged.

"Goodbye, Damon."

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	9. Where Do I Even Start

When Emma woke up at her home upstate, it was to the noise of workers in her garden.

"What the hell is going…" Emma trailed off when she walked outside, having quickly thrown on some clothes. She saw employees from Cunningham's removing her angel statue from a crate. Emma fell to her knees, tears trailing down her face, a smile gracing her features. "You're back. He brought you back to me. I miss him. God, I miss him. But I don't think I can trust him again."

"You could at least try." Emma turned around to see Damon behind her. "She looks perfect there. I want to make this work, Emma, so badly."

"You lied to me. You used to me."

"And you have no idea how much I regret that. If I could go back, I would have told you everything from the beginning. I love you Emma. More than I've loved anyone in my life and I'm not going to give up on us. I just need a second chance."

"You hurt me, Damon. I don't think I could stand being that vulnerable again."

"But isn't that part of love? Being vulnerable to another person, but trusting them enough to know they won't break you, knowing their happiness lies in their hands."

"Do I have that over you?"

"That and more. I was wrong, Emma, about everything. All I had thought about was that painting and I didn't realize how wrong I was until it was too late. I just wanted to pay my grandfather back by giving him the last thing he had of his mother. Forgive me?"

"Yes. I left New York because I was afraid you were like all those other people in my life. I thought you were using me. I jumped to conclusions, Damon."

"I can't blame you for it. You were right. I did use you. I knew the painting would be mine through marriage, but that wasn't why I married you. When I said my vows, I said them because I loved you. I still do with every breath I take."

"You were distant after the wedding. I was worried you only wanted me for the paintings and then I spoke with Kol and everything came crashing down around me."

"I should have never pressured you into marriage. It was too soon. I should have showed you how much I love you."

"I wasn't too resistant to the idea of marriage, Damon."

"No, you weren't. And I'm happy you aren't. I'm never letting you go again."

"I wouldn't want you to."

"I want to give you, our love and our marriage, a second chance."

"I'd like that," Emma said before her lips met his.

THE END

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